Kill Your Darlings
by Malhearst
Summary: Ginny is tired of Tom's mocking voice in her head, so she decides to do something about it. But careful what you wish for. Especially if you're not sure it's what you really want.


**Author's Note:** Written for QLFC (Season 4, Round 7). Position: Keeper for the Falmouth Falcons

 **Word Count:** 2,731

 _Write a story focusing on Gin 'n Tonic (Ginny and Tom Riddle)_

* * *

 _For tresemellon._

* * *

 _Ginevra_.

It was nothing but a hoarse whisper, but it muffled everything around her. When she finally regained her hearing, Ginny noticed things about the common room she hadn't noticed before: the sound of the fire crackling, the low hum coming from Lavender Brown, Trevor croaking in one of the corners.

Distracted, she looked around.

"Ginny?" Dean asked.

Whipping her head back to focus on Dean and shaking it, Ginny gave him a thin smile. "Sorry, what did you say?"

It wasn't the first time _he_ had pushed his way to the forefront of her mind, and Ginny was always left with a feeling of guilt and obstinate denial when he was gone─as if she'd been so focused on not thinking about him that she had inadvertently triggered his arrival, but as if, at the same time, the thought seemed too ridiculous to admit to herself.

Another, more sinister idea intruded as well: that she wasn't at all sorry for his company.

As if on cue, his voice, cold and sharp, cut into her. _I'm only here because you can't let me go_.

This is magic, she thought to herself. Not me.

In front of her, Dean rose to his feet with a sigh. "I'm going to bed."

"Alright, Thomas," Ginny said with a smirk curling the corner of her lip. There was nothing to be wry about, but it was a force-fed habit; growing up with six brothers had taught her to mask her feelings well.

"Hey, see you on the pitch tomorrow!" he said by way of goodbye, mimicking their usual tone of mockery and challenge, and Ginny felt sorry for having ignored him.

"As long as you don't bring that horrible hat."

"Ah, you would miss it if it was gone," Dean said, easing into the banter. Ginny noticed him relaxing his shoulders only because Tom pointed it out to her.

"Thomas, my mum could knit you earmuffs that would suit you better than that old tam o' shanter!"

Dean made a sharp exhale as if about to laugh. "You've been hanging out with Seamus too much."

"Seamus is Irish," Ginny said with a chuckle.

"Bah," Dean said, good-humoured, giving her a sweet smile. "Anyway, tucking in. G'night, Weasley!"

"Night, Dean!" she called back. When he'd disappeared from view, her gaze strayed briefly to the window, where Lavender Brown, her legs crossed and hanging over the armrest, huffed and rolled her eyes as if Ginny and Dean's parting had been an insurmountable pain to sit through. Meeting Ginny's gaze for a moment, Lavender closed her book with a small _thud_ and stood up with quick, smooth movements. She then turned her back on Ginny and walked dramatically up the stairs to the girls' dormitories.

 _Finally alone_.

Ginny fought the instinct to bat away the voice as if it was a fly circling her head; she knew that nothing she did could beat his voice out of her head.

You're dead, she thought. You died with a basilisk fang through your scented leather.

Silence greeted her.

Don't think I didn't notice, Tom, Ginny continued, smirking to herself. What was it? Pine and spice?

Tom ignored that. _You should know better, Ginevra. But you don't. You have no idea how soul magic works, do you?_

Begrudgingly, Ginny tried to keep her thoughts to herself, but he was part of them and inside them, and all the answers she thought up and discarded reached him in the end. A part of her knew she should be afraid of him, and that part screamed at her to stop talking to him like an old friend.

That part of her was wilfully ignored.

She could hear his laughter echo through her. _You stupid, naïve Gryffindor. You poured your own soul into that diary. You let the wrong person in. You forged a bond and sacrificed a piece of your own soul that day. Do you understand the Law of Equivalent Exchange?_

Ginny thought she did, but she couldn't string it together in a sentence, and that was all the invitation Tom needed to keep talking.

 _To obtain, something of equal value must be lost._

A piece of my soul for a piece of yours, Ginny thought, her spine tingling.

 _Clever girl_.

.ooo.

Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was bustling, and Ginny didn't much appreciate Fred and George pushing her and Hermione toward the violently pink array of love potions nor having them question her about her love life. When, finally, Fred chased after Ron, trying to make him pay for the things he' collected, and George followed Verity somewhere else, Hermione looked at Ginny with one eyebrow raised.

"What?" Ginny asked, still slightly annoyed at her idiot brothers.

"You're not actually thinking about using a love potion, are you, Ginny?"

"What? I'm with Dean; why would I need a love potion?"

Hermione kept pinning her with that special stare of hers, reserved for times when she wanted to express her scepticism but didn't want to get into more of an argument. After several seconds of hard-boiled silence, Hermione sighed, looked down, and said, "I know you haven't given up on Harry."

Ginny, feeling as if all the air had gone out of her, looked away and over at her brothers, who were still talking to Harry. A hard expression formed on her face. "Well, since he doesn't notice me, I won't wait around for him."

Looking up, Hermione's dubious gaze met Ginny's for a few moments before she said, a slight crack in her voice, "Great."

 _Ah, but that's not the real reason, is it?_

It sounded as if it came from right behind her, and Ginny resisted the urge to spin around and see if he was there. Instead, she looked around slowly, surveying the room, trying to find a mirror. It was an idea that had come to her a couple of days ago in a dreamlike haze: if he was really all in her head, and her brain could play his voice back to her, perhaps it would paint his image in her reflection, and she could catch a glimpse of him in the mirror.

However, Ginny found no mirrors, so she trained a vacant stare at the WonderWitch products in front of her instead.

 _I'm sorry I can't be there, Ginevra_ , he purred, his voice thick like honey. _I'd love to be able to reach out and touch your cheek_.

Her eyes fluttered closed for only a second. The next, his laughter filled her with shame, high-pitched and raw. _Some of us don't need love potions_.

You wouldn't know what love is, she countered.

 _Ah, but it's not love you want, is it, little lion-hearted girl? It's obsession. A love potion isn't about love; love isn't even about love. It's all possession, having someone for yourself. And there's something else, isn't there?_

What, Ginny thought against her better judgement.

 _The reason you're not buying that love potion is this: the Chosen One is just a bandage. You keep telling yourself you want me out of your head, but you don't._

Ginny held her breath.

 _You want me to stay_. _And you know you can't enjoy my company if someone else is claiming your attention_.

"Ginny, I'm going to go back," Hermione said suddenly, and Ginny allowed herself back into the present. It both thrilled and scared her that it was with a certain sense of a grudge, as if feeling petulant meant admitting to an addiction─an addiction she didn't have to share with anyone.

Hermione had taken a step away, but she still lingered. "Do you want to come?"

Looking back, Ginny shot Hermione a bright smile. "In just a second." She pointed towards a random tub. "I'm just going to be checking out the─" Squinting, she read the first and best label she came across. "─Edible Dark Marks."

With a horrified look on her face, Hermione spun around and headed in the other direction. Just to seem busy, Ginny moved over to the tub, staring down into it.

 _Back for more. As always._

You're delirious.

 _I'm right; and deep, deep down, in that frightened little heart of yours, you know it. Hear how fast it's beating. I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be brave_.

Bravery is about facing your fears, Ginny thought before she could stop herself.

 _Then face it. You're in─_

"No!" Ginny said. Realising she'd said it out loud, she looked around to see if anyone had noticed. One little boy was looking up at her with wide eyes, one of the Edible Dark Marks in his hand. Slowly, he put it back in the tub, his eyes trained at her the whole time, and scurried away.

I'm not, she thought, anger welling up inside her.

 _Then prove it. Prove to me you don't want me. You want to be with someone else_? She wanted him to stop there, wanted to avoid making a choice. _The love potions are right over there_.

.ooo.

 _Drip, drip, drip._

She watched the three little drops plummet into the tea and dissolve itself in swirling patterns. A small, pink mushroom cloud rose from the rippled surface, thinning out into the stale kitchen air. Ginny looked at it dully. She was numb to her own guilt; routine had made her complacent in her sin.

"Mum?" A child's voice coming from behind made Ginny perk up.

Turning, she gave her four-year-old a wide grin. "Yes, James?"

"What was that?" He was pointing at the tea on the kitchen table, his arm stretched as far as possible, and Ginny thought there was something accusatory about his pose. For a second, a sneer flickered across her face. Resentment bubbled deep in her stomach at the thought that anyone was trying to share and expose her secret.

Then, horrified, she shook her head. "I'm sorry, James," she said patiently, squatting in front of him and placing her hands on his hips. "I don't know what you're pointing at."

 _How theatrical. What a beautiful mask you've carved for yourself, Mrs Potter._

Ginny ignored the voice.

"There was a tree in Dad's cup!" James insisted shrilly. "It was pink."

"Oh, that? That's nothing for you to worry about."

"Mum?" James said after a contemplative moment of silence, looking up at her with big eyes.

"Yes?" Ginny smiled.

"Do you love Dad?"

It was as if she'd been hit in the face. Drawing back, almost imperceptibly, Ginny realised her smile had disappeared. She tried, and failed, to rectify that. "Why do you ask that?"

"You don't, do you?" was James' only reply.

Ginny struggled not to rise from her position, though her calves were aching and her heart was beating. She was frightfully aware that Tom was staying silent.

"Of course I do, James. Where are these questions coming from?"

"From inside," James said, placing his small fist on his chest. "You don't love him; you just want him to yourself."

"James!" Something about his answer sent shivers down her spine. This wasn't her son, she realised. Someone else had taken over. It was _him_.

"Is love real, Mum?" he continued cruelly.

Wide-eyed and panicking, Ginny said, "Yes!" Realising how desperate it made her sound, she added, more calmly, "Yes, love is real."

"How do you know?" he asked, and Ginny realised, finally letting her hands fall from their previous positions on his hips, that it wasn't a question. It was a statement.

.ooo.

" _Muffliato_. Harry, have you noticed James behaving strangely lately?" Ginny looked down at the boy, who was currently sitting on the floor, trying to whistle as he ran a toy model of a red steam engine across the floor.

"No?" Harry said mildly. "Strange, how?"

Glancing out the window, Ginny said, "I don't know. He asked me some weird questions yesterday."

"What sort of questions?" Harry asked with a little more concern.

"Things like if love was real."

To her surprise, Harry chuckled. "That was early."

Ginny stared at him. "You think this is normal?"

"Yeah," he said. "Every child has that phase where they have to ask every question that comes to mind."

Harry, seemingly aware that Ginny wasn't comforted, placed a hand on her arm. "Don't worry."

"It wasn't like that," Ginny tried to counter.

Frowning, Harry asked, "Then what was it like?"

Reminded of James' exact words, Ginny shrugged laboriously. It was becoming more and more of an effort for her to keep calm, and Tom's mysterious lack of commentary only heightened her sense of discomfort.

Meeting Harry's gaze, she said, "It didn't seem like he was actually curious about what he was asking."

Harry's frown deepened. "What does that mean?"

"It means," Ginny said confidently, repeating words she didn't remember where she'd heard before, "that he sounded calculating."

There was no answer at first. Harry kept looking at her as if she was a test subject, someone to be examined and judged.

"Quit looking at me like that; I'm not an animal," she hissed.

"Sorry," Harry said, sounding anything but. "Maybe give it some time, Gin? I promise to look out for anything weird. Okay?"

She could tell that he was brushing her off: he was the diplomat closing the conversation without any admissions. It ticked her off, but she could do nothing about it; he had every right, and she wanted to choke him for it.

Her gaze dropped, and Harry followed it, moving around to force her to meet his eyes.

Ginny huffed. "Okay."

Down on the floor, James looked up at her and smiled.

.ooo.

 _So, is it everything you dreamed of?_

Startled, Ginny sat up. She had laid down on the couch after stumbling out of bed, unable to sleep and unable to stand the staccato snores coming from beside her. Feeling as if she had barely closed her eyes before Tom had intruded, she tried to ignore him, knowing she would fail.

 _Ginevra_ , he cooed.

What, she thought, trying to keep calm.

 _Is it every bit the perfect family you wanted? The Chosen One, his lion-hearted wife, and their golden children?_

Yes, Tom, thank you. Ginny scratched a spot on her leg idly although it wasn't itchy.

 _Ah, ah, ahh. You can't lie to me._

Why not? she thought playfully before remembering that she'd decided not to indulge him.

 _You can't lie to yourself._

Ginny snorted.

 _Did you know?_ he continued, unapologetic.

Despite her feeble efforts not to, Ginny inadvertently ended up asking him exactly what he wanted. What.

 _I was conceived on a love potion too_.

A sense of dread spread through her body like wildfire, and Ginny froze.

 _A smart boy you have there. He's truly figured it out, hasn't he?_

No, Ginny thought.

 _Yes._

It was you. You told him those things.

 _Now, now, Ginevra, be careful not to make false accusations. The only person I can speak to is you._

Her brain seemed jammed.

 _We simply share some similarities. He has more of me in him than you'd care to admit, though. Some people have suggested to me that someone conceived on a love potion can never feel love, but that might just be because we've learned from our mothers._

Shut up! Ginny screamed voicelessly, gripping her head with her hands.

 _As long as they are alive, little Gryffindor, you'll never have me to yourself._

I don't want you to myself! Ginny thought, trying to convince herself that she was finally rebelling. I want you out of my life!

 _You'll never be rid of me, Ginevra. And now you have a mirror to prove it to you_.

He left her with one parting thought: she'd created a monster.

.ooo.

She was panting. They looked so peaceful, both of them. Four-year-old James looked as he had when she had entered: on his stomach, one hand hanging out over the side of the bed. His brother, two years younger and on his back in the upper bunk.

In her hand, her wand hung slack. She had lit up the night with green flashes quickly and mercilessly. They would never know her pain, and they would never cause her any ever again.

Ginny moved stealthily through the house and into the bedroom, where her husband was snoring away, oblivious. As she raised her wand one last time, she looked into the mirror on the other side of the bed and saw _him_.

 _Hello, Ginevra. Finally alone_.

* * *

Prompt  
 **The Game Is On:** The Crooked Man - Write about someone who has a secret

 **The Fairy Tales Challenge:** The Adventures of Pinocchio - Write about someone who is duplicitous in nature  
 _Additional Prompts:_ Lose Your Soul by Dean Man's Bones

 **Potions Club:** Sneezewort - Write about a lie

 **Challenge Your Versatility:** Psychological!AU

 **Investment Building Challenge:** Ginny Weasley

 **Social Media Competition:** Soundcloud / Timed Event - Get Out by Casey Abrams

 **Greek Mythology Category Competition:** Achilles - Write about a fatal flaw


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